Chapter Twelve: The Skills Necessary

"Michael, hi."

Michael stopped short on his way to Irina's office. Despite what he'd told Sydney, he was actually quite concerned that her mother had sent her out with Sark. He planned to have a little conversation with Irina and see what he could find out.

He hoped he had prepared himself enough. It seemed that every conversation with Irina left him feeling as if he had just finished a game of chess with an opponent whose skills were far superior to his own.

Now he turned to face the person who had halted him on his path to Irina's office. He felt a momentary rush of happiness at the sight of Brooke Banning, though he did his best to push the feeling aside. "Promise me you'll be good while I'm gone, Michael." He'd never seen Sydney so needy, so insecure, and it worried him, ridiculous as her concerns were. Of course he would never be interested in Brooke.

Although she did wear the hell out of the short black skirt and the tall, high-heeled boots she was dressed in just then. "Hi, Brooke," he returned her greeting. "I've never seen you around here before."

"Oh, I make an appearance every now and then," Brooke said with a smile. "I don't always meet with Irina directly. She asked to see me today, though."

Michael nodded, startled as he had been the first time they'd met by her unusually striking eyes. "I was hoping to speak with Irina myself," he told her. "But if you have a meeting, I guess I'll come back."

"I should only be a few minutes, if you want to wait," Brooke said, tossing her white-blonde hair over her shoulder. Michael would have had to be blind not to notice how amazing-looking she was.

"Maybe I'll do that," Michael said with a shrug. What else did he have to do, but wait? Sydney was gone.

"So, did you have fun at the party last night?" Brooke asked with a smile.

"Sure," Michael said. Really, it had been rather amusing to have Sydney fawning all over him like she'd been. Such attentiveness from her was a rather rare thing. Only today had he realized how much his basically innocent conversation with Brooke had bothered her. Again, he thought it was ridiculous of her to worry, but he'd do whatever it took to make her feel better.

Not that there was much he could do to comfort her while she was off overnight with that bastard Sark.

"You did?" Brooke cocked her head to one side, a question in her eyes. "Really?"

"Sure, I had a good time," Michael said with a shrug. It hadn't been as tense and humiliating as he'd feared it might have been, anyway. His encounter with Brooke and Sydney's subsequent reaction had pretty much taken care of that. "Why? You sound surprised."

"No reason," Brooke said, gazing into his eyes as if trying to peer into his soul. "It just didn't look like you got much of a chance to talk to anyone besides your date."

"I got to talk to you," Michael pointed out with a smile. Damn. Had that come out sounding flirtatious? He hadn't meant for it to sound flirtatious. Or had he?

"Yeah." Okay, from the look she was giving him, he was guessing that it definitely had. Once again, damn. "You sure did."

Both looked up as the door to Irina's office swung open and Sydney's mother appeared in the hallway. For a fraction of a second, she looked surprised to see the two of them together, then her features contorted into a soft smile Michael wasn't sure he liked.

"Oh, Brooke, good," she said. "You're right on time."

"It's good to see you, Irina." Michael frowned at the warm smile Brooke directed at Sydney's mother. From the way Brooke had spoken the night before, Michael hadn't thought she liked Irina very much, but then, he supposed everyone on Ms. Derevko's payroll was putting on some sort of act.

"And Mr. Vaughn, what a pleasant surprise," Irina continued, throwing Michael a cool smile. "Do we have an appointment?"

"No, we don't." Michael had a feeling that after their encounter the night before, it was going to be awfully hard for him to keep up his own act with her, but he was going to try his damnedest. "I was just hoping you had a moment to speak with me."

"Of course, Mr. Vaughn. In fact, why don't we speak over dinner?" Irina suggested. "Brooke, why don't you join us, too?"

A cozy dinner with Sydney's mother and the woman that was bringing out all of Sydney's insecurities wasn't exactly what Michael had in mind, but how could he refuse? "That-- um, that sounds great," he managed. "But I was kind of hoping to speak with you alone. About Sydney."

"I can't imagine why you'd be interested in discussing my daughter." The insinuating glance Irina shot at Brooke made Michael's blood run cold. "But perhaps we can have a few minutes of privacy after dinner."

Michael struggled to paste a smile onto his face. "Thank you, Ms. Derevko."

"Please." Michael could think of only one word to describe the smile on Irina's face: wicked. "How many times have I told you to call me Irina?" Bitch. She was trying to trip him up, torture him. Well, he could play that game. In fact, he'd do her one better.

"I'm so sorry. Of course. Irina." And he leaned over and planted a kiss on Irina's cheek. The surprised look on her face and the brief smile that flashed over Brooke's were enough to keep the vomit from rising to his throat.

Of course Sydney's mother recovered quickly. Of course she was much more skilled at such games than he was. "Good, Michael." The sound of his own first name from her lips was like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard to him, but he kept the smile firmly pasted on his face. Maybe he had doubted his own abilities. Maybe he was becoming a better actor every day. Liar. Whatever. "Now, Brooke, why don't you come in? Michael, if you'd like to go do whatever you need to get ready for dinner, my business with Ms. Banning should be finished shortly."

"All right." And Michael turned and started back down he hall, trying to hide how badly his hands were shaking, how badly this brief meeting had utterly, completely unnerved him. Trying to pretend that he was looking forward to the dinner he was going to have with the last two women he'd expected to share a meal. Trying to pretend he'd had a choice in accepting the invitation.

And if he could convince Irina that his behavior was sincere, maybe he could convince himself that he really possessed the skills necessary to play this game.